The Shadowed Dream, The Magnificent Infection
by somniarequadrille
Summary: Rowan Adair harbors abilities to manipulate the mind, something she's always had trouble coping with. When she arrives to Gotham with no intention of staying, she lands a job at Arkham and encounters her latest colleague; Dr. Jonathan Crane. When he discovers her secrets the monster within him longs to play, while a certain Bat is looking to help Rowan. (Batman/OC/Scarecrow)
1. Prologue

**A/N: **_Howdy! So this is my first Batman fanfiction- also my first fanfic written in English! I promise there is a plot in here somewhere ;) I know it can be annoying when OC's are thrown in, but I attempted to make it fit in as well as possible! Please review if you can, criticism is always welcome! I had to write a prelude so you could better understand the character. I promise more happens in the first chapter! I unfortunately don't own any characters aside from my OC Rowan. Enjoy! :)_

* * *

_Prelude_

"Control is you're greatest ally, Rowan."

She had heard those words uttered in her ear since the mere age of six. It was then her adopted parents discovered what abilities the child possessed. They wasted no time shipping her off to doctors, praying the phenomena could be easily diminished. It was all in her best interest of course. Rowan was far too young to control something far beyond her understanding. Unfortunately no one seemed to name her condition. Some suggested she was mentally ill, others believed she had a gift for doing something only few could. Her mother and father saw it as a danger, a danger to the public and a danger to their darling daughter.

By the age of ten, Rowan Adair had encountered nearly fifteen doctors. A psychiatrist by the name of Doctor Maria Haven claimed to have identified the so called 'problem'- cerebral control. Her parents were shocked to find she could manipulate minds with ease. The outcomes of her powers were not always pleasant, however. And seeing as their was no ridding her of it, they opted to assist her in controlling it. That began an entire new wave of psychiatrists working with the girl to conceal it. As far as they were all concerned it wasn't a gift, it was a curse.

When her seventeenth year arrived, she was beginning to believe that was true. Doctors could offer her nothing except advice on how to contain it- which rarely ever succeeded. Her parents couldn't provide her with answers she so longed for, they didn't even hold records of her birth parents. That was the day she parted from her home with good intentions. College appealed to her first, of course, but remaining in one had never been her forte. Each one she applied to immediately accepted her, not much of a surprise. She'd managed to obtain a PhD in psychology, but never put it to good use. She was on a journey, much like the soul-seeking chick flicks scattering the television. The resemblance always made her giggle.

* * *

Rowan had become accustomed to traveling by the age of twenty-seven. Motel rooms were a daily part of her life, along with both gruesome and memorizing sights. She never cared to stay anywhere long. If her destination couldn't provide her with answers she would simply seek out a new one. Many towns she fled from due to accidents she'd caused. A few incidents such as mental breakdowns and mental imprisonment were caused when she unintentionally used her powers. The worst part was she couldn't cure who was affected, she didn't know how to. Often times she thought about isolation, but then finding help wouldn't be possible. So, she continued to run.

That one-track mind was exactly what led her to Gotham.


	2. Opportunity is Calling

**A/N:** _Alright, here's the first chapter! Like I promised there is more action going on and Rowan encounters our favorite caped crusader ;D Don't forget to review. Thank you, darlings, and enjoy! :)_

* * *

Above Gotham hues of violet gathered on the horizon, casting inky shadows upon the towering structures. Few civilians dared to roam the streets at dusk as the city's less desirable population crawled from crevices. Rowan, possessing no prior knowledge of the city, slipped from her motel room to take an evening jog. No matter where she inhabited exercising when the sun prepared to set was always in order. She found in most places not many out at this hour, providing her with the solitude she so desired.

Turquoise sneakers slapped the pavement as she increased her pace. Slightly brisk air devoured her exposed flesh, a sensation she entirely welcomed. The temperature provided motivation. Her long legs glided past flickering street lamps and down barely illuminated corners. Even in the darkness one could clearly make out exotic skin contrasting with mint green shorts, her dark brown curls hanging loosely in a ponytail. With exhilaration coursing through her veins, Ro disregarded any other possible company lingering on the street. Even when light footsteps trailed a few feet behind and her senses screamed in protest, she ignored the sensation.

Breathing became an impossible task after an agonizing thirty minutes. With her chest heaving and limbs reluctant to continue, she sought momentary relief in resting against the nearest building. The course brick scraped her arms as she slid down the material slightly, her palms resting on her thighs as she forced out a sharp breath. It was then that she lifted her head to gaze upon the outstretched street. Automatically she assumed this not to be a particularly pleasant area of the city, though she was still unsure if any part was. Neighboring apartments appeared to be abandoned gauging by shattered windows and caving entrances. She found her assumption to be wrong as a few lights flickered above, signaling citizens continued to take refuge there. Ro furrowed her brows at the sight before facing the opposite direction. What she received was an obstructed view of the street she had come from. Before she could question the chest her eyes burned into, something lodged itself into her rib cage; a pistol.

"Alright, lady, give me yer wallet. You even try ta' scream and I got a bullet with yer name written on it." Had the circumstances not been so dire she would've been tempted to laugh in the thugs face. Clearly in her attire there was no room for a wallet, and there was no purse in her possession. Generally when jogging she didn't carry her valuables along. He didn't seem to recognize this nor did he look like an understanding man. The weapon was shoved more harshly into her side as he once again screamed, this time his voice laced with more urgency. There were two options here; stand around like a fool waiting to get shot, or use the only means of power she had to avoid death. Her eyes caught with his as she began to manipulate his mind. She intended to have him drop the weapon and move away. The pistol did falter from her contact but it did _not_ slip from his fingers. Instead his arm trembled violently as he raised it to his temple, the fear of God plastered over his features. Ro remained frozen with her jaw hanging. She didn't possess the experience to keep him from preforming the ghastly deed. A choked sob elicited from her lips as she squeezed her eyes shut, hearing a faint click in response.

_No, no, no, no. Oh God, I'm so sorry. _

Seconds passed without the sound of a trigger pulling back. Relief instantly flooded her. Perhaps he had walked away? She barely lifted her eyelids to find no sign of the man, no gun anywhere in view. She hadn't heard a single footstep. Shock and confusion consumed her as she once again examined her surroundings, only to find the empty street greeting her. But there was also an absence of splattered blood and brains, which managed to fill her with an odd sense of comfort. She wasted no time returning to the motel.

* * *

On nights when there was a satisfying lack of disturbances at Arkham, and the sky was illuminated by the moon's glow rather than a fog light, Gotham's savior patrolled the Narrows. Being a billionaire playboy, Bruce Wayne had plenty of other pass times lined up aside from gliding from platforms to ensure no chaos erupted. So far he had only caught two rebellious teenagers attempting to steal. They ran off scared the moment he revealed himself from the shadows. Aside from the arguments that could be heard occasionally, everything was fairly quiet. Being Batman had made a difference after all.

He considered allowing himself to be naive for the evening and return home, that was before his sights settled upon the young woman held at gun point. The fear he expected to arouse in her eyes wasn't present as she peered into that of the thugs. Before Bruce could intervene and assist her, the man had placed the pistol against himself. His brows furrowed in confusion for a moment as he considered the situation. The ability to control another being was something he had witnessed before in the superhumans' he called colleagues. There were also villains he encountered who harnessed their powers to see the suffering of another. This woman didn't appear to be either. No, now she appeared frightened. With a single swoop, the Batman had collected the man and rendered him unconscious. Surely Gordon wouldn't question a thug tied up outside of the police department. He spared the woman a second glance before disappearing into the night. He assumed he would be hearing of her sooner rather than later.

* * *

The corresponding morning had brought forth Gotham's bustle at promptly six a.m. Rowan was up long before then, completing her daily routine and returning to her computer screen. She dressed herself in clothes considered appealing by the public- a black pique dress fitting to her curves with a high neck line, matched with a brown, belted jacket and heels on the verge of being stilettos- meaning she would be venturing out. Seeing as the events of the night prior seemed to take no affect on the city, she had spent the majority of the morning- from midnight to three- researching work places in the area and finding one that seemed suitable enough. Although her stay would be limited she sent out an application, which pended far faster than she assumed it would. Somehow she'd managed to set up a meeting for eight a.m. sharp. At least she'd scored a meeting before leaving.

When seven thirty approached, Ro took a final glance at her reflection. She feared her appearance was bordering on terribly improper for an interview. Allowing a sigh to escape her lips, she swept her brunette curls into a neat half up do. It seemed appropriate enough. A taxi was her means of transportation to her destination, something she discovered wasn't always practical when the driver was a disgusting middle-aged man prone to flirting with his clients. He had, however, provided her with a considerable amount of knowledge on her destination. It was apparently located in the Narrows- the Narrows being what everyone referred to as the part of the city littered with criminals and poverty. When he'd questioned what such a pretty face was doing in such a bad place, she'd rolled her eyes before explaining only one place had peaked her interest for using her degree; Arkham Asylum. That seemed to shut him up.

When they arrived, she left the driver a generous tip-due to his silence during the last ten minutes of the trip- and exited the vehicle to gape at the massive structure. Almost immediately Rowan developed a macabre sort of admiration for the architecture. A decrepit sign hovered above her reading _Arkham Asylum._ She ceased gawking and allowed her lungs to fill with air in a sharp breath. _This is it, Ro. _

Entering the facility was an adventure in itself. Had it not been for the security check point, she would've surely lost herself at the next turn. An erect man stood armed at joining doors. His gaze was hard and uninviting when he first spotted the woman. As overwhelmingly intimidating as that was, Rowan found the courage to step forward. She aimed to keep her chin up and posture perfect. Confidence emanated from her despite the timid child screaming within.

"I'm here for a job interview. My name is-" The guard cut her off with a wave of his hand. He turned his back in a manner she thought rude, but she attempted to clear her mind of any negative energy. Though she had practiced control in her childhood- well, more like all her years leading up to this one- there was no telling when her abilities could suddenly take over. Why she had even considered working at an Asylum when she fret over the power she possessed was beyond even herself. Perhaps it was the longing to finally put her PhD to use. Rowan was a brilliant woman, she knew this. She did in fact see the harm in studying criminally insane men, this was if she was granted the position. The likeness of her presence gracing Gotham for more than a few weeks was slim. Maybe this was a midlife crisis? More like a desperate need for fiances.

Before she was granted time to further pursue the thought, she was being guided past the rusted entrance. A ominous hallway awaited the pair, one so dimly lit she noted it resembled the street from the previous night. The thought faded from her mind as they approached numerous cells. Surprise registered on her features despite her attempt to keep an unreadable expression. Ro hadn't expected to instantly greet the faces of the insane while passing through to meet her possible employer. Some of the inmates hooted and hollered at her presence, a scene which vaguely reminded her of _Silence of the Lambs_. She released a breath she didn't know she had been holding when they turned the corner and reached an office.

"This is it. _Knock." _He turned away without further instruction. She mimicked his command with a sour face behind his back before turning to rap softly on the wooden surface. There was no response. Rowan shifted her stance to rest her weight on her left hip. _Am I late? Did they decide to decline my application instead? What if- _

"Ah, Miss Adair. Please come in." A short, stocky man emerged from the office, a white, medical coat hanging loosely from his shoulders. Rowan cocked a brow as the doctor guided her into the office. Immediately he gestured for her to take a seat- though she longed to examine the numerous books lining several shelves- and maneuvered around his desk. He placed a pair of wire frames on the edge of his nose, his plump fingertips opening a manila folder holding her resume.

"I'm Doctor Dixon Barlow, currently the head of management here." She nodded in response, seating herself in one of two leather chairs. Dr. Barlow observed her for a moment more before skimming through the paper. Whether or not he was pleased with the reading material, she wasn't completely sure. Of course reading his mind to receive answers would be like child's play, but she resisted. After what seemed like an eternity of silence he returned to face her.

"You received a PhD in clinical psychology and spent a year of college interviewing men and woman, observing their behaviors." He said this as if it was news to her. She simply nodded once more, attempting to turn her lips in a smile. "This University stated, 'Rowan Adair instantly picked up on mental illnesses and disorders, along with other minor details, almost immediately.' That's very impressive, Miss Adair." This time she thanked the doctor. Unfortunately a simple understanding of the mind wasn't what caused her to pick out things unnoticeable to the eye in people. With her abilities detecting such things hardly strained Rowan. She would refrain from mentioning that.

"It's rare someone impresses me, Miss Adair."

"I suppose I don't have to do my jumping through a ring of fire routine, then." She smirked at her own sarcasm which earned a hearty chuckle from Dr. Barlow. After he finished reading her application, Ro expected him to show her out and promise a call on her status later. He removed his glasses and to her surprise, stated the complete opposite.

"Congratulations, Miss Adair. You have the job."

* * *

**A/N: **_So, I know it may seem slow now, but I promise some more colorful characters are going to be coming into the picture. Things will be picking up more the next chapter and there will be an appearance from our favorite crazed Doctor- Jonathan Crane! He's going to be a big part of the story, as will Bruce, so stay tuned, my dears! Please review and tell me what you think 3 Until next time! Also, for some extras; _

_This is how I picture Rowan: Freida Pinto: /freida-pinto-wallpaper/_

_And this is her outfit: professional/set?id=84477335_


	3. A Light in the Darkness

**A/N: **_So I was looking at the traffic graph and seven people viewed the prologue, but only one viewed chapter one! So, I do realize the story is starting out slow. But like I said in the previous chapter, there will be more going on, including Jonathan Crane's appearance and some interaction with Batman. So hopefully this keeps you lovelies reading :) Don't forget to review and tell me what you think!_

_Also, thank you** highlander348** for your review, and to answer your question she is capable of all those things. But she hasn't quite developed an understanding on how to use them yet due to her attempts to conceal her abilities for so many years. But later chapters are going to bring some answers as to the limit of her powers and how she has them!_

_And to **WinterRain36:**__I'm definitely looking forward to expanding on Batman's and Rowan's relationship, which will be coming around shortly! But it will be more like he's helping her! But you'll have to keep reading to find out ;D_

**_Liluri: _**_Thank you so much for your kind review, dear! And thank you for your reassurance, it helps a lot! _

* * *

No sooner did the words elicit from Dr. Barlow's lips was a choice presented to her. Due to her impressive track record, Rowan could start out with a patient considered relatively mild. Or a more intimidating, complex prisoner could be interviewed, and of course supervision was still required. Throwing her into something could threaten the Asylum's reputation, not that it possessed much of a good one to begin with. When presented with the options she chose to accept the challenge of interviewing one of Arkham's more dangerous inmates. When something captured her attention she was far more likely to keep her powers concealed. Dr. Barlow offered her a week in advance to collect her thoughts. She opted to meet her new patient right away. Dr. Barlow harbored no objections and guided her to what was referred to as the 'Interview Room.' The pair stopped outside the iron door, where he placed a folder in her hand. In it was the profile of Victor Zsasz. She skimmed through it briefly, gathering the required information. She prepared to the enter the room when a hand on her shoulder brought her to a halt.

"This one is particularly disturbing in appearance- along with behavior, of course- Miss Adair." A nod was provided in response. Whatever awaited her behind the door would be greeted by an unreadable expression and a professional demeanor. Once again she was interrupted from proceeding.

"Miss Adair- your_ colleague_." Once again Rowan turned sharply on her heel to face the unfamiliar man. A cerulean gaze pierced into her own, and for a moment she neglected to derive a proper greeting. Fortunately he introduced himself before she could appear too foolish.

"I'm Doctor Jonathan Crane. I will be supervising your interview. It's a pleasure, _Doctor _Adair." Dr. Barlow appeared dumbfounded by the use of her title. Clearly he hadn't considered a PhD to be sufficient enough to address her by doctor. Rowan allowed herself time to examine Dr. Crane before speaking. His suit appeared bare of a single wrinkle or frayed strand of fabric, his dark hair not perfectly sleeked back but remaining elegant. His striking azure orbs were framed by fairly modern glasses. He kept his hands tucked neatly behind his back, the cold expression he carried and the lack of an extended hand were minor details she took into account. He seemed like one of those men who took everything more seriously than necessary.

"May we proceed?" She countered Dr. Cranes indifferent expression with an underlying icy tone, flashing an inquisitive look between both men before receiving a nod of approval. The door was opened by a guard Dr. Barlow assured her would be waiting outside in case anything went astray. Upon entering the room, furnished in only a steel table and a set of chairs which already occupied one man, Ro's heels tapped against the linoleum flooring signaling her arrival. The man, Victor Zsasz, lifted his head to study the source of the disturbance. A smile expanded across his scarred flesh. He _adored _females. Well, not so much adored _them _as he adored_ slaughtering_ them. But his interest was still peaked.

"Oh, Doctor Crane, do you have a lady friend?" He chuckled at his own joke. Dr. Crane maintained a neutral expression. Rowan took the liberty of seating herself across from Zsasz when she realized his hands were cuffed to the silver surface. There was no doubt in her mind that he could easily snap the material and break free, but he seemed to engulfed in the new doctor to consider the option. She leaned back slightly in her seat and crossed her legs, allowing a small smile to grace her painted lips.

"Mr. Zsasz, I'm Doctor Rowan Adair. Do you mind if we talk?" He furrowed his nonexistent brows momentarily.

"You don't have any questions for me?"

"Not particularly. Though I can't say they won't come up in conversation." Behind her, Jonathan Crane cocked a brow to barely indicate his surprise. He had fully expected her to bombard Victor with questions, not proceed with conversations as if this were a tea party. Victor seemed to have the same thought.

"Then please, continue." With that a slight boost of confidence shifted through Rowan. She leaned forward so her hands rested on the table, clasped together as her focus never once left the inmate. She hadn't intended to use her abilities but this appeared to be an opportune moment. In moderation she supposed it wouldn't be terribly harmful. Victor Zsasz was already insane which left no room to mistakenly plant a mental illness in his mind. What was the harm?

"I've heard you're very fond of a knife. It must have not been very exhilarating to have to improvise. Though I'm sure you enjoyed seeing the look of pain in your victims eye when you were forced to use your fingernails." Victor was speechless. Not because of the bluntness of her statement, but simply because there was no possible way she could have pertained that knowledge. The woman he had murdered with his fingernails was never recovered. He had never spoken of the event to anyone, less the police attempt to dig up one of his lesser pieces of work.

"How'd you know that?" A smile came to rest upon her features as she stood, smoothing down her dress before preparing to depart.

"Thank you, Mr. Zsasz, that will be all for today." Rowan turned to face Dr. Crane who immediately disguised his curiosity. The door was once again opened where Dr. Barlow awaited the pair. He instantly appeared puzzled by the hast of the visit. He pondered the idea she'd become disturbed by Zsasz, but her expression said otherwise.

"May I share my analysis, Doctor Barlow?"

"O-oh, yes?" How it was possible to achieve an analysis in such a brief amount of time was beyond both him and Crane. Perhaps the woman wasn't as skilled as Dr. Barlow had previously thought?

"Victor Zsasz possesses the traits of a psychopath minus a few details. The superficial charm is nonexistent, something he has clearly never cared much about given his scars. His thinking is anything but irrational. Victor understands what he is doing goes against human morals but commits these deeds nonetheless. His judgement is only poor by choice. He seeks thrills in having people witness what he considers masterpieces. All though the moment a blade isn't in his grasp and he has to improvise, he won't allow anyone to see the body. He thinks it's shameful. The moment someone mentions this to him his brain screams 'failure' and longs to create something to show the public he is still capable of creating something dreadfully beautiful- as I believe he would describe it."

While Dr. Barlow appeared at a loss of words, another voice piped up inside Jonathan's head.

**'Woah, who's the hot chick, Jonny?' **

_'A woman I've clearly underestimated.' _

**'I think she may be smarter than you. She got all that by lookin' at the guy?' **

Jonathan mentally scoffed at his counterpart. 'It_ would appear so, yes.' _

"If you don't mind, Doctor," she began, peering down at her watch, "I need to be leaving now. Thank you for your time." Without waiting for a response, Rowan departed from the pair with a final nod. She had descended half way down the hallway only to turn sharply on her heel. "And, please, call me when my presence is required." And with that she had exited the asylum.

* * *

Moments after Rowan parted from Arkham, Jonathan Crane returned to his office. He was familiar with Victor's file- as he had fought that pesky DA to admit him to Arkham- and the majority of her psychosis and knowledge on the man hadn't been included in the paperwork. She'd uttered a simple question to him and received an absurd number of answers. He had to admit the shocked expression on Zsasz's face was priceless. Often times even skilled doctor's who interviewed him were disturbed within the first few seconds; but not Rowan Adair. As curious as her behavior had been, Jonathan was far more interested in how she'd collected information on his improvised murder. No such records existed, and for a moment he'd been sure she was bluffing, but Zsasz had shown she spoke no lies.

**'So, she's hot and smart. Sounds like your type." **

_'I don't _have _a type,' _he reminded Scarecrow. Few women captured his interest. Attractive women approached him occasionally, most of them lacking intelligence and repulsing him entirely. Even those who did possess some brain power never really appealed to him. But Rowan was significantly different. Aside from being attractive, which he would recognize, her psychological skills were brilliant.

_'_**Sorry. I meant _my _type. She is hot.' **

_'So you've said before.' _

**'Well, she is.' **

_'She's attractive.' _

**'See, you do like her!' **

Jonathan became silent.

**'Imagine experimenting on her, imagine her screams! I bet she'd scream for us in more ways than one, Jonny-boy. Can you imagine-' **

He brushed away the mental image of a tightly bound Rowan writhing beneath him, fear glimmering in those doe eyes. The fire that raised within him at the mere thought was unbearable. Jonathan attempted to focus on reading material. He found the attempt to distract himself failing miserably, his mind once again directed to Rowan. He suddenly longed to observe her once more. Given what she had presented to Dr. Barlow, he assumed she would be called in before the week was over.

_'We'll be seeing Doctor Rowan again, soon. _Very _soon.' _

* * *

_"_God damn city and it's god damn lack of cabs when you need 'em." Rowan cursed lightly under her breath, feet aching from the heels she paraded in. There was more than five miles to walk- only two of them in the Narrows- and her confident facade had faded the moment she'd left Arkham. She prayed a taxi would miraculously come her way. In her current attire walking wasn't considered the safest option, and the last thing she needed was a repeat of the previous night. When she rounded a corner to find unfamiliar surroundings her wariness only heightened. Why hadn't she asked Dr. Barlow or Dr. Crane for directions, or even a ride? She quickly reminded herself that would've wounded her pride when she'd been on a roll. _Stupid cockiness. _

Footsteps tore Ro from her thoughts, causing the pit of her stomach to churn in a nauseating manner. It was possible paranoia was just kicking in and there was nothing to fret over. Even with the possibility in mind she didn't dare turn to investigate. Where her feet were even leading her was a complete mystery, but she never ceased walking. Turning sharply into another corner, she discovered a brick wall awaiting her. The footsteps were dangerously close behind.

_Is danger my middle name?_

Deciding postponing turning around was pointless at this point, she found herself uncomfortably close to a man. His build wasn't entirely muscular, nor was his height miraculous, but whiskey lingered on his breath and that was enough to concern her.

"Hey there sweet cheeks. Y'look lost. Lemme help with that," he slurred and proceeded to stumble towards her. The man didn't seem difficult to evade and she had no intention of using her abilities against him. Unfortunately her fight or flight instincts kicked in rapidly. Before an escape attempt could be made he stopped his advances, suddenly clawing at his throat and struggling to find air. Bewilderment crossed Rowan's features as she realized the circumstances. She had no idea she was capable of choking someone with her mind. Worst of all, she hadn't the slightest idea on how to stop the man's suffering. He collapsed to his knees and she released a small squeak in both horror in protest.

The moment she was sure his struggling would cease, it happened.

Without warning a man cloaked in black appeared in front of the pair, his back turned to Rowan as he pulled a vile from his belt and injected it into the man. He rested lamely against the pavement without protest, but he appeared to be breathing. Her mind failed to comprehend the scene. After a few minutes she tore her gaze from the limp man and to the one who had seemingly saved his life.

"This is the second time you've done this. Why?" He spoke in a raspy voice and Ro didn't have it in her to respond. A million questions raced through her mind as she examined his armor. _What did he inject him with? Who was he? Did he know about her abilities? _He repeated his question once more and it registered faintly in her ears. She failed to respond for some time. And then the realization hit her. It was only the other morning some perky blonde reporter and been raving over the vigilante known as Batman. She knew very little about him, but gathering by his stance, she assumed he wasn't exactly thrilled with her.

"You're the Batman?"

"And you're causing these men to almost die when they attack you. You're doing it with your mind?" It surprised her that he would even consider that to be a possibility. Anyone else examining the scene would've assumed the incident had nothing to do with her. This time she found the will to respond.

"I-I'm sorry I don't mean to. I can't- I don't know- I can't control it." Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, and she closed them tightly to keep them from falling. How could he possibly understand the circumstances? In his eyes nothing more than a harm to society stood, or so she assumed. His next words arose such disbelief, Rowan was sure she had slipped from reality.

"I can help you."

It seemed the night was full of surprises.


	4. You'll Need A Savior When Fear Comes

**A/N:** _Wow, I can't even describe how kind you all are in reviews! Thank you so much, lovelies! You've all really provided me motivation to write more chapters (I'm already thinking about making a sequel after this story, woah) And to answer a few questions from the reviews: _

_1.I don't want to give away too much, but Rowan is definitely curious about who is under the cape and cowl- which we will find out more about later! Really she could user her abilities to find out who Batman is, but you'll learn she will come to hold a certain respect for him and refrain from doing so. Will she keep herself from learning his true identity forever? You'll have to keep reading ;D _

_2. As far as Batman teaming up with Rowan goes, I think that's a possibility! Of course Batsy is going to think she needs a hell of a lot of training! But Bruce will come to find out eventually that Ro is capable of holding a great deal of responsibility. Thank you for the idea, darling! _

_3. I always, always welcome suggestions! Doesn't matter what they are, just throw them at me and I'll tell you what I think! It's always good to get feedback! _

_So, that's all for now! Thank you, dear reader, and don't forget to review! :) Also, this chapter is going to be filled with a back and forth of Rowan's point of view and Bruce's point of view._

_One more thing, I am totally picturing Rowan as Rachel Mcadams. If you prefer to continue to picture her as Freida Pinto that's fine. But I thought I would let you know! _

* * *

Flickering streetlamps dimly illuminated the awe consuming the young woman's features. After observing her the previous night and finding her in a similar scenario just moments ago, Bruce had come to a conclusion. She didn't appear to be willingly harming the men who approached her, rather it was an act of defense her body immediately stimulated. Having some knowledge of the phenomena that occurred, he had deducted one option; mind manipulation. Her answers only proved his research- or sleuthing- was correct. Another realization came to mind not long after. If she was better equipped to utilize her powers, Gotham would be better protected. And wasn't that the Batman's soul duty?

"_I can help you." _

The words had escaped him quicker than intended, but there was no revoking the offer now. Studying the woman's body language he found a surge of relief obstructing her surprise. Bruce awaited a response, one he expected would take a moments consideration. He imagined the words were hardly foreign to her ears. Though judging by her current stance and the glazed look in her eyes, he assumed those who stated the same had subjected her to more tests than real assistance. A woman who is mistakenly- almost- murdering men with her mind wouldn't have learned how to harness her abilities, but to conceal them completely. Something so powerful can only remain hidden for so long.

"I...I don't see how," she spoke finally, her voice timid and laced with confusion. Bruce hadn't expected acceptance right away, of course. It would take time, understanding, an idea of safety before he would be allowed in. He had been the same once, though far more naive.

"I can train you to utilize your strengths, to harness your weaknesses and keep this from happening again." She cocked a brow, clearly considering his offer but proceeding with caution all the same. Was he offering to train her? Normally he wouldn't consider something so brash, especially when presented with a woman that remained a stranger. _What if training backfired? What if she rebelled? _The thoughts circled his mind for a mere moment before he pushed them aside.

"And I'm supposed to trust you?"

_It seemed she had the same mind set._ "What's your name?"

"Rowan. Rowan Adair." A name, that was a start. A solid introduction...almost.

"Rowan, just give me one day to prove I can help." A sigh elicited from her crimson lips, her eyes gliding over him with apprehension before rolling in defeat.

"Fine. _One _day." Her tone had become slightly more tenacious, however the hesitance remained.

He extended a hand in return.

* * *

_THIS. IS. CRAZY. _

Rowan's conscious screamed the phrase repeatedly, despite her instincts failing to sense any danger. Currently a large man donned in a bat costume stood before her, offering to ease the suffering she'd been subjected to for so long. Apprehension seemed unnecessary given Batman's reputation- however that entirely depended on one's viewpoint. The new's seemed to favor the caped crusader, broadcasting the miraculous stunt he'd pulled when capturing Falcone and his men. Unfortunately the police department didn't seemed to thrilled with his actions. Everything was happening at a rapid pace. To accept his assistance seemed absurd- no- _insane. _But with certain events looming over her, would it be far more treacherous to decline?

_Yes, yes it would. _

Peering at his gloved hand, she attempted to straighten her back before stepping forward. Shadows curled along street corners and danced across alley walls, beckoning her to escape while the chance was presented. And she wasn't one to decline. With daylight seeping into the horizon, causing hues of inky violet to descend upon the city, there was little time to hesitate. Ro slipped her palm into his, and he responded by wrapping an arm around her delicate frame. The fabric his suit was tailored from was surprisingly soft, she noted. She wasn't able to linger on the subject as Batman removed a peculiar gadget from his belt. Before she could question his actions, the pair were sent soaring into the air. She could not conceal the scream pouring from her lips. He repeated the action once more as they reached a rooftop. Within seconds they were gliding down to the pavement, greeted by a large vehicle strongly resembling a tank.

"Get in," he ordered. The roof of the vehicle peeled open and Batman slid in with ease. Rowan allowed herself a moment to gawk before following in suit. The scenery blurred and contorted immensely, resembling something out of a dream aside from the nausea forming in the pit of her stomach. One might compare the speed provided by the acceleration to a carnival ride. She couldn't. No roller coaster, no spinning, whipping, tilting ride could compare to this. A voice faintly registered in her ears...or at least she assumed one had. Reality was soaring past her leaving no room to decipher phrases. Ro squeezed her eyelids shut to escape the surreal atmosphere beyond the window. If Batman noticed this, he said nothing. The silence was accepted.

When the speed appeared to decrease, she allowed one eye to peer out the tinted glass. Darkness greeted her, wrapping around the vehicle and swallowing the headlights effortlessly. Wariness collected inside of her once more and projected onto olive skin littered with goosebumps. She attempted to conceal all traces of fear. Mustering up enough courage to question her companion proved to be laborious task.

"Where are we?" When no response was received, a pang of panic coiled in her chest. What if his intentions strayed far from the promises he spoke of? Trickery didn't seem like his forte, though she had no real idea who _he _was. A hero in the eye's of some, a nuisance in others. There was one way to clarify the thoughts clouding her judgement. Reading his mind would be painfully simple. That cowl couldn't protect him. But there mere thought of accidentally harming the man if he did intend to help made her visibly cringe. She couldn't risk it.

When movement had ceased completely, the smooth, black hood lifted once more. Rowan allowed herself one last wary glance before descending from the beast. She found a gloved hand slipping around her own as she attempted to maneuver around the vehicle, the contact causing a faint cry to escape her. The darkness didn't seem to faze him in the least, his feet extending far beyond her own as she trod with caution. As a child the lack of light had shaken her core, causing attacks of panic and pleas for her mother. Presently, she carried very few fears from her past along. But the utter blackness consuming her thin frame had never settled properly in her mind. Her father had often offered words of gentle encouragement throughout the years, explaining what lies in the darkness is no different from the daylight. It never eased her. She was a grown woman and remained terrified of the dark.

She hadn't been aware she was trembling until her surroundings were illuminated by a pale light. A sigh of relief passed gently through her pursed lips, eyes turning up to face the man who no longer guided her like an infant. His cape trailed behind him in an array of flurries, the restless motion coming to an abrupt stop when he seated himself in front of numerous monitors. One was abnormally large, challenging any flat screen television she'd ever seen, paired with several compacted versions. He appeared to be engulfed in a task, his fingers typing hastily away at the keyboard...but only for a moment. With grace Ro was sure she possessed none of, Batman stood and held out his arms.

"Welcome to training."

* * *

A young women bellowed a thick scream, her violently thrashing limbs restrained to the metal slab. Visions of decaying corpses filled the room and bony fingers tore at her powdery flesh. Jonathan Crane observed the scene behind protected glass, scratching notes onto a thin slip of paper. Normally the fear prominent in his victims' eyes was a lavish treat. Unfortunately greeted by a phobia prominent in the majority of his patients, the good doctor found his mind wandering to one particular woman. Rowan Adair was an attractive woman, but that wasn't what captured his attention. The beast burrowed within his thoughts didn't care about the wits she carried, rather what could make such a pretty face contort into a look of horror. Jonathan attempted to push the voice away to the best of his abilities.

_**'Come on, Jonny. Can't you imagine her screaming for **_**us.' **

Where once his patient lay in a state of hysteria, the image of Doctor Adair forcing hopeless cries from her rose-tinted lips appeared. It was intensely captivating. His teeth ground profusely, hands gripping the writing utensil with unnecessary force. The idea was far from an infatuation, nor would he allow it to become one. Wondering what fears consumed her was irritating when he could _witness _them. Experimenting on colleagues was something he had yet to do, but it would be a delicate process. Doctor Barlow insisted Jonathan take their newest addition under his wing, meaning any damage to her psych could result in his dismissal. No, he couldn't risk diving into anything. He was patient man. And he had all the time in the world.

He would test her stamina first.

* * *

Mental blows proved less strenuous than a physical one. However, controlling the urge to damage a human with weapons and fists couldn't compare to limiting the use of cerebral control. Blinding pain burrowed into Rowan's skull each time she attempted to conceal her abilities. After several hours- the time blurring occasionally in her mind- a soothing voice eased the ache. Her current mentor allowed the training to span for an extended period of time, allowing the exercises to become second nature. He placed her in various violent situations, gauging her reaction and improving her tactics. Self defense was important in a city ridden with crime, but it was appreciated when murder was avoided. To think she could engage in a demanding scenario and respond with logic caused her heart to flutter with hope. The feeling was foreign, but not at all unwelcome.

She didn't expect results immediately following this session, nor did she intend to return. Or at least she hadn't prior to the outstanding conclusion. Ro recognized more training was required for 'miracles to occur. Still, she'd improved considerably. With her new found knowledge only one inquiry remained prominent in her thoughts. Who was the Batman? Sifting through his thoughts for a name would be simple. It seemed rude to reveal an identity that was intended to remain masked, herself. But didn't she deserve an answer? Would he ever answer himself? Before the question slipped from her lips, a shrill ringing sounded from her purse.

"Hello?"

_"Doctor Adair?" _Her heard tilted at the familiar voice on the other end of the phone. Was she already receiving a call from a colleague?

"This is her. I'm assuming you're Doctor Crane?"

"_You'd be correct. I apologize for bothering you so early-" _

"Early?" Rowan tore her ear from the cellphone momentarily, peering at the time through wide eyes. **7:00 a.m. **How had the morning hours crept up so suddenly?

"_Yes, I do hope time is something you're fond of managing." _

"I'm _not _fond of carrying out a conversation with sarcasm at seven in the morning."

"_Then perhaps you won't care to accept my offer__. I was wondering if you're able to proceed with an interview at Arkham. I will of course be supervising, but this is a pristine opportunity and I must insist you take it. If you're capable of course." _

_"_If I wasn't capable I wouldn't have applied for the job. What time?"

"_I propose you arrive an hour from now. I'll see you soon Doctor Adair." _

The receiver responded with a small click. Though Doctor Crane's arrogant tone had been distasteful, Rowan was pleased to find her presence being requested. With a small smile lingering on her lips, she presented the man opposite her an apologetic glance.

"Well, I hate to cut this short-" _because it's not like you've kept me for a ridiculous amount of time- "_but work calls. I-I've made my decision."

No sign of curiosity littered Batman's features. He appeared indifferent to whatever she was prepared to say. Or perhaps he already knew. Maybe he witnessed the astonishment she'd donned when taking control of her own mind. Maybe the importance of the situation had faded completely from his busy schedule. Either way she would allow him the answer he'd once requested.

"I want to come back. I _want _this to work. I guess I don't really understand how you have the experience to deal with me, but I couldn't care less as long as I'm not hurting people."

"Then we'll continue."

Three words. Three simple words sent the rush of hope spiraling beneath her bones once more. There was _hope. _Real, genuine hope that wouldn't rely on donning a facade. Gotham had once been nothing more than another passing city. A city she would move on from and forget within a days time. Now, it presented opportunities. Now, it was almost home. _Almost. _

"Uh, just one more thing."

"Yes?"

"I have no idea how to get out of here."

* * *

The luxurious journey to her motel had lasted a grand total of ten minutes, a trip intended to last at least half an hour in a normal vehicle. She wasn't about to complain. Instead she bid the caped crusader a parting nod before rushing inside to swap her clothing. The wrinkled skirt and blouse piled on the carpet, replaced by a simple, emerald dress that wrapped around her delicate frame. Smoothing down the fabric and placing her hair atop her head, a routine similar to that of the previous morning, she exited the room and signaled a cab. This driver refrained from making any remarks, unlike the previous one, which she tipped generously for. Though it was difficult to miss the confused stare she received when moving towards Arkham's entry. Apparently attractive women rarely entered the facility.

She allowed herself to stride with more confidence, her heels tapping against the linoleum flooring with determination. A young woman perked her head up behind a desk without hesitation. She quickly regained her posture and sugar-coated smile when Rowan stepped before her. Before she could introduce herself, the secretary withdrew a badge and placed it in front of her. It read: _  
_

_Arkham Asylum Staff:  
Doctor Rowan Adair  
Clinical Psychologist  
DOB: 10/13/1988  
Permitted in all wards_

"Doctor Barlow left that here for you." Rowan's lips parted in a silent 'oh,' her brows furrowing as she felt the lamented badge between her fingers. She attached the clip to the swoon of her dress. She awaited verbal reassurance that permission to proceed had been granted. The secretary quirked a brow, nodding towards the left with a faint smirk clinging to her lips. Around the corner awaited the interview room. She heaved in a sharp breath, allowing the air to fill her lungs before releasing it slowly. Her anxiety had slipped for a mere second. All traces were concealed when she reached the guarded door.

* * *

"Ah, Doctor Adair," Jonathan spared her an apathetic glance, his hand motioning towards their destination. "Shall we?" He observed her features momentarily as she provided a swift nod in response. He briefly wondered what expectations circled in that engaging mind of hers. After her previous interview, he doubted Rowan would consider a low-security patient to await her. And who was he to disappoint? Though Doctor Barlow had questioned his decision to place a vulgar patient before her- not that many patients were worse than Zsasz- he'd assured the administrator that such a capable woman could handle the challenge.

**_'Do ya think ole' Al will crack her?' _**

_'I certainly hope it will take more than a hit-man's remarks to fracture her psych.' _

He'd set his expectations unrealistically high after their previous encounter. In fact, Jonathan _almost _allowed the interview to occur without a dose of fear toxin coursing through the man's veins. But with such a delicate organization looming over him, he couldn't risk any questions of Alberto Leob's presence at Arkham. No doubt the patient was still hysterical from the toxin, a factor she wouldn't be able to see past.

When the pair entered the confined space, Crane gestured towards the seat directly across from the paranoid man. Rowan accepted the seat, her brows already appearing to furrow in confusion. He was mumbling something incoherently while his gaze settled beside the young woman. Behind her Jonathan stood idly, adjusting his glasses while she flipped through his file. Once again her features twisted into a puzzled expression.

"Mr. Leob, I'm Doctor Adair. How are you today?" Her tone smooth like velvet, dripping with an overwhelming sense of comfort. She waited several moments for a response. And when one wasn't received, she merely stood and signaled Crane towards the door. Once removed from the room, she ceased movement to stare him directly in the eye. He didn't inquire to why she'd left so abruptly. Instead he allowed himself a moment to observe her stature; the way her chin lifted and her spine straightened firmly. Brunette strands slipped from her bun and framed her face, the light accenting the highlights. She was the picture of composure.

"Mr. Leob presents symptoms of schizophrenia, but I don't believe that he has any illnesses- rather I believe what he is experiencing is...the result of something traumatic. Something that _isn't _insanity."

Her response was shocking, however Jonathan's uninterested gaze remained unwavering. The possibility of her seeing past his toxin was so slim, he hadn't even considered it.

_**'How the hell did she-' **_

"I'm curious as to what makes you assume that, Doctor Adair. However, I'm afraid I have other patients outside of the asylum to tend to. Perhaps we can discuss this over dinner?"

"I suppose if it's really such an inconvenience for you." The bitter edge to her voice hinted on sarcasm, though it was countered by the faint smile drawn on her features. "I'm available at seven."

"Perfect. I'll make arrangements." A smirk graced Jonathan's lips as he brushed past her. A plan devised in his mind, one that had been forming previously but involved no brash actions for the evenings. Trust could prove to be a more powerful thing than fear in this case.

And this was only the beginning.

* * *

_**A/N:** __Okay, so I hope that didn't seem too rushed. I've been having a hard time with writers block and I didn't want to keep you lovelies waiting any longer! Just let me know in reviews! Also, here is Rowan's outfit. cgi/set?id=111445461_


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